


Something You Want

by JudeAraya



Category: Glee
Genre: Corsetry, Crossdressing, M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-16
Updated: 2014-09-16
Packaged: 2018-02-17 15:38:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2314688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JudeAraya/pseuds/JudeAraya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompted by likearumchocolatesouffle, who suggested crossdressing, and perfectanomaly who suggested accidental crossdressing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something You Want

**Author's Note:**

> part of the Porn off 2014 with Missbeizy

It starts with a sweater vest. The first time Kurt sees it, it’s worn in a very flattering ensemble and Blaine’s singing to him, upbeat and well meant encouragement to spread his wings and take a chance. When they get back to Blaine’s, Kurt’s more focused on getting Blaine out of it than analyzing it.

It’s not until they get dressed again, sweater vest included, that Kurt really takes note of the cut and shape — very flattering and slimming and making Blaine look generally tiny.

“Blaine, is that from the womens department?”

Blaine looks down and frowns, “I don’t think so?”

“I’d never judge, you know I think fashion has no gender.”

“No, I know. I just don’t think…?”

Kurt goes behind Blaine and flips down the collar, ignoring Blaine’s little protest, and examines the label. It doesn’t really give any clues. Kurt kisses the back of Blaine’s neck in apology for stretching the weave and turns back toward the door. “Come on, we’ll be late for Friday night dinner.”

 

~*~

It’s mostly forgotten until a week later, when Kurt’s adjusting to the sounds of the city in a hugely empty loft on nothing but an air bed, a pressing night lonely against him. He’s taken himself in hand, thinking of Blaine, drawing each second out for more pleasure, remembering each tiny detail he can.

He remembers Blaine in the courtyard, hair gleaming in the sun and slim waist perfect under his hands when they’d been alone, finally. Unbidden, he thinks of Blaine in that sweater vest, and suddenly imagines him in something tighter, something differently flattering to the lines of his body in a way men’s clothing might not achieve. He comes biting his lip to keep it in so Rachel won’t hear.

~*~

Kurt might give that Blaine hadn’t bought that vest on purpose, and he’s never confessed to Blaine that the very idea of Blaine dressing himself in a sliding scale of increasingly androgynous clothing sometimes crops up in his fantasies, but he’s pretty sure that the next time he catches Blaine in a slightly more feminine top, it  _is_  on purpose.

He comes home from class wearing a cowled sweater, a red striped shirt just peeking out from under it. He’s rumpled from the subway and a little cross — initially Kurt spends their dinner moments trying to cheer him up.

Cheer is the last thing on Kurt’s mind when Blaine undresses that night, revealing a shirt that’s decidedly less covering than one might think. It’s sleeveless and wide necked, displaying Blaine’s small corded biceps and the swing of his collarbone.

Blaine has a beautiful body and Kurt has such a weakness for it he can hardly be blamed for the way he pounces on him that night.

~*~

Blaine rarely wears anything around others like it, but he must sense whatever it is that’s growing in Kurt, because unexpected underwear begins to show up, tops he wears when it’s just the two of them, even pants once that Kurt is positive were not bought in the men’s department.

While it all turns him on, increasingly, it’s the underwear that really catches him off guard.

After a lovely date night in the promise of Blaine’s room at Mercede’s apartment empty, Kurt savoringly strips Blaine to find Blaine in white briefs cut low on his pelvis and high on his hips, with a little red stripe at the band. His cock is an almost obscene bulge straining the tiny amount of fabric, and it’s nothing for Kurt to push him back on the bed in order to mouth and suckle at him through that fabric until it’s almost see through with moisture and Blaine’s begging for more.

~*~

“You’re doing it on purpose aren’t you?” Kurt murmurs in the afterglow. Blaine is boneless on top of him and there’s come between their bellies. Somewhere in the room that ridiculously hot pair of underwear niggles at Kurt’s consciousness, tugging on his curiosity.

“Yeah,” Blaine admits after a bit, slurred voice deeper, saturated with sex. “You seem to like it.”

“Are you okay with that?” Kurt rolls them ponderously to the side, depositing Blaine’s supine form onto the bed next to him. He cleans them up sloppy and fast with Blaine’s discarded undershirt, then tries to arrange their bodies close and comfortable.

“I like it too,” Blaine whispers before sliding into sleep. Kurt smiles into the dark before falling asleep himself.

~*~

“Would you like to help me pick something out?” Blaine asks one day out of the blue. Kurt looks up from his textbook.

“What?”

Blaine lays his pen down and looks at Kurt seriously. “The underwear. Is that something you want to do with me?”

Kurt laughs. “Well I certainly want to do something with you when you’re wearing them.”

“Oh god that was terrible,” Blaine taps Kurt’s foot with his own under the table and rolls his eyes, wide smile so sweet.

“More on point,” Kurt continues, nudging Blaine back with his foot, “I’ll admit I kind of like…the surprise? Not knowing when or what?”

“Okay,” Blaine looks down, lashes soot lovely and almost bashful.

~*~

Kurt can tell the moment Blaine arrives that something is up. It’s in the way he moves; more slinking and lose than usual. He moves like sex, right in Kurt’s space from the get go, at his side while they cook, hands constantly touching, eyes slanted and dark. Kurt barely makes it through dinner; the more he watches Blaine, the more he can tell that something is different under his clothes by the way he moves and they fit.

“Do we have to wash the dishes?” His voice is hoarse.

Blaine smiles that way he does, played up innocence and straight up fuckable. “Can I have a moment?”

“Yeah, sure, Yes,” Kurt babbles. Through the curtain he can hear the scritch of a zipper and the slightest thump of clothes hitting the floor.

“You can come in now,” Blaine calls; the anticipation floods through Kurt like one throbbing pulse. The constant tease of his fantasies, however, cannot come  _close_  to what he finds.

Blaine is leaning by Kurt’s desk, back to him but face turned in anticipation over his shoulder. Low on his back a corset in a deep jewel purple laces, cinching his waist so tiny it’s unthinkable. The laces end in a bow and below it the fabric stretches all the way down Blaine’s hips where it hooks, gartered to sheer black thigh highs. He’s not wearing any underwear at all; his ass is lush and full and exposed, highlighted by the frame of the corset.

“Oh my  _fuck_ ,” Kurt whispers.

“So eloquent,” Blaine teases. He arches his back and leans a bit, already prominent ass tilting toward Kurt more.

“Are there rules right now?” Kurt palms the fat, tempting cheeks and runs his fingers down to the edge of the stockings.

“No,” Blaine shudders a bit. “What are you going to do?”

“I think—” Kurt clears his throat and gets his thumbs between those cheeks, spreading them a little. He puts his face between Blaine’s shoulderblades and licks and bites his way up to his neck. He’s still completely dressed, pressing his dick through layers of clothes against Blaine’s body. He’s not particularly gentle about it and Blaine has to brace himself against the top of the desk. “I’m going to have to bend you over and eat you out.”

His breath gusts out in a tiny, shocked moan; their bodies are perched on the precipice of something unfamiliar and almost too big. Kurt’s never,  _ever_  said anything like that and the very act of speaking them is almost unbearably erotic.

“Oh my god,  _yes_ ,” Blaine moans, low, then louder when Kurt pushes him forward with a flat hand against his back, bending him roughly until he’s pressed cheek to belly against the wood.

There’s nothing tentative or slow about Kurt’s mouth. Nothing like the rare previous times they’ve tried rimming, unsure and testing. His tongue is flat and broad and wet when he licks up Blaine’s crack, and his mouth is firm and sure when he sucks hard kisses over Blaine’s hole. He pulls back to look, Blaine’s body glittering in the low light where Kurt’s spit has slicked over his skin. His pucker is a lovely brown and twitching, body begging for more almost as desperately as Blaine’s high pitched, entreating voice is. Kurt crouches lower, knees hard against the floor and kisses at him, sucks and prods with his tongue, hands pulling the curving give of Blaine’s ass further and further open.

Blaine cries out, loudly, when Kurt’s tongue works it’s way into him, pulling Kurt out of the haze blurring everything.

“Am I going to bruise you?” He unclenches his fingers, petting Blaine’s ass apologetically, sweetly. He tucks his fingers under the garter, then the edge of one stocking. He runs his nails down Blaine’s legs and notes that under the fabric Blaine is smooth and waxed.

“I want you to,” Blaine says, breathless with it.

“God,  _Blaine_.” Kurt turns a too hot cheek and rests it on his ass. “You can’t just  _say_  things like that.”

“Come on Kurt,” Blaine says, pushing back a little. “Whatever you want right now.”

It rushes through him, Blaine’s willingness and permission; he can feel his cock leaking and throbbing, probably staining his pants and he  _loves_  it. Loves Blaine so urgently, loves how his voice drips with craving and acquiescence, the power he has in this moment.

He fucks Blaine dirty with his tongue, draws at the swell of skin between his sack and hole. Shoves Blaine’s legs apart so he can get to his balls. He uses his mouth without caution, sucking at him without usual tenderness. He uses Blaine’s body against him, giving him relentless and unforgiving pleasure. He licks his thumb until it’s so wet it slips into Blaine without resistance. Blaine’s voice cries out, he sobs his ecstasy when Kurt fucks it in, when Kurt’s dry fist sneaks around, pulling Blaine back enough to circle his cock. He doesn’t jerk Blaine off. He doesn’t stroke or entice, doesn’t tease. He squeezes, harder than he should. He licks desperately at Blaine’s rim around his thumb and gives him one final squeeze, bites down on one cheek, hard enough to leave a mark, working the flesh between his lips and feeling Blaine’s orgasm rush through him, pulsing every place he’s touching him. The air is ripe with the sound of Blaine’s sobbing voice. Blaine floods his senses; Kurt can smell the sex on him, on his wet face and redolent in Blaine’s most intimate spaces with the tang of spit and jizz everywhere.

“I—” Blaine is gasping above him while Kurt clamps down on that razor sharp sear of  _nownownow_. “I can’t breathe, oh god  _Kurt._ ”

Kurt lurchest up, calves and feet a bit numb, then helps manhandle Blaine onto the bed. “You okay?”

“Yeah,  _god_ ,” Blaine says, pulling Kurt onto him. “It’s the good kind of can’t breathe.”

“Oh good,” Kurt straddles Blaine, low enough that he can still rub his hands up his thighs and over his spent cock and through the come staining the front of the corset.

“Jerk off on me,” Blaine says, still breathless, hands grabbing Kurt’s and pressing them against him briefly before fumbling at the crotch of Kurt’s pants.

“You’re all about the show tonight, hm?” Kurt says with a wicked smile. Blaine makes him feel alive, sexy and reckless and  _fun_. He arches his brow and bites his lip and pulls his cock out of his unzipped pants.

“Tit for tat,” Blaine twinkles up at him. His fingers touch Kurt softly, over Kurt’s own fist, barely grazing his dick wherever Kurt’s hand isn’t as he pumps himself relentlessly. He slips the pad of his index finger between Kurt’s lips and when Kurt comes, everything narrows to this, Blaine’s finger in his mouth and his body framed in brilliant purple, sex personified under him.

~*~

“I think we ruined your getup,” Kurt says later, gesturing toward the come on Blaine’s corset.

“It’ll wash, I’m sure. I have faith in the internet,” Blaine responds.

It takes a moment for Kurt to connect the sentences.

“Besides,” Blaine rolls over into his arms and kisses Kurt’s nose, this beautiful dichotomy of tender boy and sensual man, “I bought more.”


End file.
